Living a Second Chance as the Richest Daughter

The next day, Anna didn't leave her room.

Her breakfast was delivered to her door, along with a tray of snacks before lunch. No one disturbed her, and she was left alone with her thoughts.

Determined to uncover more about Shane's life, Anna spent the morning searching the room for anything hidden—secret compartments, a concealed doorway, anything that might reveal more about the girl she had become. But after hours of searching, she found nothing.

Frustrated, she turned to the next best thing—Shane's digital presence.

Sitting at the desk, Anna searched for any sign of Shane on social media, but there was nothing. No profiles, no posts, no traces of her existence. It was as if she had never engaged with the outside world.

Growing more uneasy, Anna tried a broader search. She Googled Shane's name, expecting to find at least a few mentions—news articles, event photos, or anything linking her to her powerful family.

But there was nothing.

No pictures of her with her father. No family portraits. No social events.

It was as if the legitimate daughter of Samuel Tiu didn't exist.

Anna's stomach twisted. Why would someone like Shane—an heiress—be so thoroughly erased from public record?

And more importantly… who made her disappear?

-

By lunchtime, Anna had made up her mind—she needed to leave the mansion.

The entire place felt suffocating, and her search for answers about Shane had led nowhere. If there was nothing useful in this house, then maybe she had been looking in the wrong place. That's when she remembered—Mr. Jing had mentioned that Shane lived in an apartment.

She found him near the entrance hall, ever composed as always.

"Mr. Jing," Anna said, forcing confidence into her voice. "I want to go to…"

She hesitated.

For a moment, she had been about to say Shane's apartment, but she caught herself just in time. She wasn't Anna anymore—not to the world.

"I want to go to my apartment," she corrected, the words tasting unfamiliar on her tongue.

Mr. Jing didn't react, his expression as composed as ever. He simply gave a polite nod. "I'll have the car prepared."

Anna blinked. No questioning, no hesitation. It was as if he had been expecting this.

Anna exhaled quietly. It was such a small thing, but claiming ownership over Shane's life, her identity—it felt strange. Unnatural.

And yet, she had no choice.

The drive was quiet, the air between them filled only with the soft hum of the car engine. Anna glanced at Mr. Jing a few times, wondering just how much he knew about Shane's life—how much he was allowed to know.

"Did I… live in the apartment often?" Anna asked carefully, testing the words on her tongue.

Mr. Jing kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. "Yes, you preferred to be independent."

Anna stiffened.

Preferred. Past tense.

Something about that word unsettled her. As if Shane's independence had been a thing of the past—something that had been taken away from her.

Frowning, Anna glanced at Mr. Jing, but his face remained impassive. If he knew more, he wasn't going to offer the information freely.

She decided not to press further. Not yet.

For now, she would see the apartment for herself.

Anna had expected something modest—a small, standard apartment. But as the car pulled into a private parking lot on the third floor of a sleek, modern high-rise, she realized how wrong she was.

This wasn't just an apartment. It was luxury.

The building loomed above them, towering glass panels reflecting the sky. Security guards stood at the entrance, their uniforms pristine.

Anna swallowed, her throat dry. "This is… my place?"

Mr. Jing parked smoothly, then stepped out to open her door. "Yes, Shane. Your own place."

Anna hesitated before stepping out. My own place?

Did that mean Shane's father hadn't given this to her? Had she earned it herself? Bought it? If so, how?

Still in a daze, she followed Mr. Jing inside.

The lobby alone was more extravagant than she had imagined—polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of a grand chandelier, and the air smelled faintly of expensive cologne and fresh flowers. Every detail screamed wealth, power, exclusivity.

Anna felt like an outsider just standing there.

Her unease only grew as Mr. Jing led her into the elevator.

She watched as he pressed the button for PH.

Her stomach dropped. Penthouse.

She turned to him in disbelief. "You're kidding."

Mr. Jing remained as composed as ever. "You always lived comfortably."

That was an understatement.

As the elevator ascended smoothly, Anna's mind reeled.

Shane didn't just have an apartment. She had the apartment.

And suddenly, Anna felt like she was about to step into a world that wasn't meant for her.

-

Anna had seen pictures of penthouses on the internet—sleek, luxurious spaces that seemed almost unreal.

But as she stepped inside Shane's penthouse, she realized those pictures were nothing compared to the reality in front of her.

Her breath caught.

Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden sunlight, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The open-concept living area was vast, yet not cluttered—every piece of furniture was modern, elegant, and deliberately placed. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above, refracting light in soft, scattered hues.

It wasn't just luxury.

It was untouchable wealth.

Anna hesitated at the doorway, a strange unease settling in her chest.

This wasn't just an apartment.

It was a world she had never belonged to.

And yet… she owned it.

The thought didn't make sense, but it was the truth. She was in Shane's body now. By all logic, this penthouse was hers.

But something felt off.

From everything she had seen so far, Shane didn't seem like someone who embraced the life of a Tiu heiress. Patricia's words echoed in her mind—Samuel had only taken Shane back out of pity.

There was no fatherly love involved.

If he had truly cared about his daughter, Anna would have met him already—at the hospital, when Shane was still unconscious. But he never came. Not once.

Not even a phone call.

Her chest tightened. Why would a father ignore his own child like that?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Jing's calm voice.

"Do you need a drink?" he asked as he made his way toward the kitchen, moving as if he had done it a hundred times before.

Anna blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

Anna's gaze lingered on the older man as he moved effortlessly through the penthouse, his actions practiced—too familiar. He wasn't just a driver or a butler. He knew this place. He knew Shane.

And yet, he hadn't questioned her once.

Anna couldn't ignore the weight of that realization.

"Mr. Jing." She started carefully, trailing after him into the kitchen.

He paused but didn't turn around, reaching for a glass. The faint clink of crystal against marble filled the silence.

Anna hesitated, but then, before she could second-guess herself, the words left her lips.

"Why haven't you asked me anything?" She swallowed. "I think you can tell I'm… different from the Shane you knew."

The air between them grew heavy.

Mr. Jing finally turned, his face as unreadable as ever. He studied her, the lines of his expression betraying nothing.

She searched his face for any sign of suspicion, of doubt—of anything—but his expression remained calm, unreadable.

Before she could speak, Mr. Jing continued, his tone steady, almost reassuring.

"You're still Shane," he said simply. "You might not remember what really happened to you, but maybe… that's for the best."

Anna's fingers curled slightly against the cool marble countertop.

For the best?

Mr. Jing met her gaze. "I'm still here, anyway. I'll guide you through everything… until you remember."

A strange feeling settled in her chest.

There was something unsettling about his words.

He wasn't just saying he would help her.

He was saying he had always been helping her.

"Okay, thank you," Anna replied.

She noticed it again—Shane's voice.

It was soft, angelic. Nothing like the rougher tone Anna had always known as her own. It was strange, unsettling even, to hear words come out in a voice that didn't feel like hers.

But despite the lingering discomfort, Anna was grateful for Mr. Jing.

Without him, she wouldn't even know how to navigate Shane's life. He had been by her side since she woke up, guiding her without question.

"Orange juice?" Mr. Jing offered, holding out a glass.

Anna blinked before offering him a small smile.

"Yeah, thanks."

She took the glass, the coolness pressing against her palm. As she sipped, she couldn't shake the thought—

Mr. Jing wasn't just helping her out of duty.

He was protecting her.